Nerima Home Companion: Kouchou no Fukashuu
by Ukyou Kuonji
Summary: Ranma in the style of Garrison Keillor: Ranma is turning forty, and doesn't like it one bit....


The stage is dimly lit, and empty, and the audience awaits the featured   
speaker. He walks onstage, carrying a metre-high three-legged stool.   
He sets it down, center stage front, and as the spotlight falls upon   
him, we notice the dark circles under his eyes. He has aged twenty   
years or so since we recall him, but it is clearly Hikaru Gosunkugi.   
His days of dabbling with voodoo long behind him, he now holds forth   
weekly on this very stage, and his gravy-like voice (well, it's brown   
and lumpy, anyway, as he would say) is carried across Japan on NHK   
public radio.  
  
The audience is silent as he begins his monologue:  
  
"It's been a quiet week in the Nerima district of Tokyo, my hometown...  
  
================================  
  
NERIMA HOME COMPANION:  
Kouchou no Fukushuu (The Principal's Revenge)  
a Ranma 1/2 fanfiction by Ukyou Kuonji  
  
With apologies to Rumiko Takahashi and Garrison Keillor  
  
================================  
  
It's been a quiet week in the Nerima ward of Tokyo, my hometown. The   
palm tree in the middle of the Kuno family compound finally bore fruit   
this past week, just in time for Ranma Saotome's fortieth birthday.   
I'm sure Principal Kuno would have found it most appropriate.  
  
After all, it was he who planted that tree, right smack in the middle of   
the Japanese garden. It looks ridiculously out of place there, standing   
brazenly amidst freshly raked sand and a scattering of stones, like a   
man in an aloha shirt amongst a group of salarymen. And the huge root   
sticking out in front of it doesn't help; at the very least, it makes   
raking the sand in properly Zen formations that much more difficult for   
poor Sasuke.  
  
But then, that was Kuno-kouchou, after all. Always making life   
difficult for everyone else. That tree represents everything he was...   
and is.  
  
Did I say he'd planted that tree? I should correct myself. That tree   
planted him, to be accurate. Most of you probably remember that palm   
tree the principal had growing out of his head. It certainly served to   
rivet a class' attention whenever he was speaking:  
  
"You know, Kimiko, I'm sure that thing didn't reach to the top of the   
chalkboard at the *beginning* of the semester..."  
  
"Oh, you're imagining things, Akisa. It's always been that big."  
  
After a couple of years, succeeding classes began to discover that Akisa   
was quite right. Slowly at first, but faster and faster over time, the   
tree on Kuno-kouchou's head was growing. After a while, the debate   
shifted from whether it was growing to *how*. Most of the kids assumed   
the tree was receiving its nourishment from the principal's brain. It   
certainly would explain his (to put it mildly) erratic behavior. Others   
insisted that no, if that was all the tree lived off of, it would starve   
to death in short order.  
  
Well, it was feeding off of him, that much was clear. Finally, though,   
it had eaten away too much of whatever it was of Kunou-kouchou for him   
to survive, and he pitched forward on his face one bright summer day in   
the middle of the garden. By the time the medical profession was   
summoned, the principal had been dead for days.  
  
Kunou-kouchou's death came as a terrific surprise to all concerned in   
Nerima. Not that it happened, or even how it happened (though your   
average Neriman, if asked before the event, would have assumed the man   
would meet his end at the hands of the students he so loved... to   
torment), but rather where it happened. For all the zeal he put into   
punishing tardiness and truancy, he was best known for his own absentee   
record, spending most of his time in Hawaii, evidently at school   
expense. Some folks would have preferred he pass away over there -   
at least the palm tree would be relatively inconspicuous in the middle   
of the Pacific, and he could be quickly forgotten. Of course, it would   
have gone against his grain to be inconspicuous anywhere, so perhaps it   
all made sense.  
  
Actually, the tree that killed him also helped Nerima forget about him.   
The medics not only proved too late to rescucitate the principal, they   
were too late to even move him onto a stretcher. The tree had already   
taken root in the soil of the Kunou garden, and Kunou-kouchou could not   
be moved, pinned as his head was to the ground by a web of roots.   
Within a year, the tree's root system had swallowed him up entirely.   
Now, the only person who gives even the most passing thought to him is   
Sasuke, as he has to contantly rake around that ridiculous man-shaped   
root only half submerged in the sandy soil.  
  
*****  
  
Ranma certainly doesn't give the old principal much thought, as he's   
rather preoccupied with the fact that age is catching up with him, too.   
Soun Tendo passed away at the age of nearly seventy without a wrinkle   
and without a hair lost or greying. Ranma wishes he were so lucky.   
Already his hair's gotten so thin that the only time he can wear his   
trademark pigtail is in his girl form, which still looks every inch the   
knockout she ever did... you must remember, it was Spring of Drowned   
*Young* Girl that he fell into, after all. Which means that now, both   
of his forms are challenges to his manhood.  
  
Yes, that's right... his hair is thinning. Is that such a surprise?   
After all, his father was spear-bald barely into his thirties, and it   
was inevitable that heredity would catch up with him.   
  
Oh, but there's the Dragon's Whisker, isn't there? Well, yes, but some   
curses fade over time, and others gain strength. In this case, the one   
gaining strength was the Saotome heredity (or would that be 'lack-of-  
hair-edity'?), so there came a day when Ranma, noticing his hair's   
condition, finally decided enough was enough. Curse or no curse, he   
pulled the Whisker out of his pig-tail... actually, it had gotten so old   
and brittle that when he tugged at it, it simply snapped in half.  
  
But nothing happened. His hair just sat there on his head, rather than   
cascading out of it like a hirsuite fountain. All that happened was   
that a couple more hairs by his temples went white from the shock. It   
was enough to send a man among men like Ranma to his knees. Folks don't   
go in for irony much around here, or they would have pointed out that if   
Ranma wasn't always trying to be so manly, this wouldn't bother him so   
much. But he was, and it did, and that's that.  
  
To be honest, though, the Dragon's Whisker hadn't lost its effectiveness.  
It just found itself thwarted by Ranma's genes, and spent the rest of   
the day moving elsewhere. By nightfall Ranma's chest looked as if he'd   
falled into the Qiongniichuan - Spring of Drowned Gorilla. Well, at   
least it looked manly... sort of.  
  
His son Akima thought his father's distress was pretty funny, and it   
did look odd for Ranma to have that thin pigtail - well, unbound, it   
was more of a ponytail - attached to a head that was starting to   
resemble that of a Franciscan friar. But you don't laugh at Ranma   
Saotome, not even if you're his son. Akima's old man may indeed have   
been getting old, but he was still Ranma Saotome. He whirled around   
and grabbed his son by the collar: "Laugh all you wanna, kiddo," he   
hissed, pointing at the bare circle on his head, "but you're looking   
at the future, y'know."  
  
Now, I understand that male pattern baldness is passed down through the   
mother's genes, and if that's true, Akima has nothing to worry about.   
But Akima didn't know that. And late that night, he snuck into the   
kitchen to make himself a midnight snack of ramen... and Dragon Whisker.  
  
The next morning, the Saotomes awoke to a scream coming from Akima's   
room. The girls were the first ones to investigate. They charged   
into his room to find him sitting bolt upright in bed, hollering as   
if he'd woken up from a nightmare.  
  
At which point the girls joined in the scream. Because while it was   
supposed to have been Akima sitting in his bed, it sure didn't look   
like him. What it did look like... was Cousin Itt. Akima was covered   
in hair that poured straight down from the top of his head, pooled   
around his buttocks where he was sitting on his bed, and ran in   
rivulets off the bed onto the floor and beyond. Several locks were   
lapping at the girls' feet by the time Ranma arrived.  
  
All Ranma could do when he walked in was sigh, partly out of irritation   
at Akima's foolishness, part out of envy that the Whisker worked for   
his son but not for him. Fortunately, Akima had only eaten one of the   
broken halves, so Ranma headed off to the bathroom, looking for the   
other half to tie his son's hair up with.  
  
"Akane... do we have a pair of shears?"  
  
*****  
  
Faced as Ranma was with both physical and chronological reminders of   
his own mortality, he was naturally in no mood to celebrate. Not that   
it discouraged anyone else.  
  
Is it ever a good idea to throw someone a surprise party? Especially   
when they hit such a milestone like the Big Four-Oh? It's that concrete   
reminder that you are, statistically, past the half-way mark. No one   
wants to be reminded of stuff like that.  
  
But surprise parties are generally an act of vengeance; it's a giant   
game of 'pass-it-along'. In this case, Nabiki was getting her own back.   
A year ago, she was more or less abducted from her downtown office by   
a bunch of guys in sunglasses and white suits - the whole yakuza look -   
and brought to some undisclosed location (she thinks it had to have   
been in Nerima, otherwise there wouldn't have been so many old friends   
there), where she was noisily feted on her own fortieth birthday. Even   
her husband hadn't been told about it: Tarou had shown up with a   
suitcase full of money after he got a call informing him of where she   
was being "held." Everyone was congratulating him on bringing the most   
appropriate present for his wife of anyone there.  
  
Before the event, there weren't a whole lot of people who both knew   
when Nabiki's birthday was, and had the gall to pull off a stunt like   
that. So Nabiki teamed up with Akane to nail Ranma... and you know   
Akane's going to get it but good herself when she hits forty later this   
year. (Meanwhile, Kasumi got off scot-free, partly because at forty-  
three, she's untouchable for another seven years, and partly because   
Nabiki *still* can't believe Kasumi has mob connections. She doesn't,   
of course, but you don't have to be yakuza to own a white suit...)  
  
Ranma's celebration was held in more conventional and familiar   
surroundings: the Tendo Dojo. The one catch was to try and get him   
out of there. Martial arts being both vocation and avocation for   
Ranma, it's quite rare that one doesn't see him there, aside from   
eating, sleeping, and battling the occasional monster threatening   
either Akane or the kids or Tokyo, in that order.  
  
And that was just the excuse that was used...  
  
*****  
  
"Good afternoon, Ranma-kun... have you seen Sis around?" Ranma was   
caught in mid-leap by Nabiki, walking in casually. It's not easy to   
walk casually into a room where a man is catapulting over your head as   
you do so, but Nabiki can pull it off. She's seen enough not to be   
fazed by anything.  
  
Ranma landed on his feet barely a foot in front of his sister-in-law.   
For all of his ailuraphobia, Ranma behaves more like a cat than anyone   
I know (barring Shampoo), even when not in neko-ken mode. But I'm not   
going to tell him that. "Akane? Thought she was in the family room   
with the kids. She's not in the... kitchen, is she?"   
  
Nabiki sweatdropped and shook her head. "Uh-uh. Didn't see her   
anywhere, and I looked around. I wouldn't ask if I hadn't done my   
homework."  
  
"Well, let's go through the place together. I might be able to find   
her."   
  
Nabiki gestured toward the door. "Lead on, bro'..."  
  
*****  
  
The girls had been reasonably well-coached (well, Nagisa had to be   
bribed a bit) regarding their mother's absence. Akima didn't need   
coaching: engrossed as he was in a martial arts show on television,   
all he answered to his dad was "Huh?"  
  
On their way upstairs, Nabiki fiddled a bit with her pager. Less than   
a minute later, the phone in the master bedroom began ringing furiously.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I've got it... Saotome."  
  
"Missing something, fem-boy?"  
  
Ranma growled. Brother-in-law Tarou may be, but that didn't mean he   
had to like him. He shot Nabiki a look, which she instantly recognized   
as his patented 'why-the-hellja-marry-this-jerk-anyway' look, and to   
which she simply shrugged.  
  
"What do you know about this... Pantyhose?"  
  
"PantSUIT, fem-boy. I know everything. Take a listen..." and the   
next sound Ranma heard was the muffled 'Mmph! Mmph!' of a woman with   
a gag in her mouth.   
  
"Akane! What's he *done* to you? Where's he *taken* you?"  
  
The muffled sounds faded as Ranma cried out to his kidnapped wife, to   
be replaced with a sneer. "That, as they say on the playgrounds, is   
for me to know, and you to find out."  
  
"Dammit, you won't get away with this, Tarou!"  
  
"Oooh, I'm so scared. Old man karate's mad at me."  
  
Nabiki watched as steam began to seep out of Ranma's ears. It wouldn't   
do for her brother-in-law to have a heart attack before the festivities.   
She tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh... Ranma-kun...?"  
  
He spun around... "Nabiki! What about Nabiki?" he yelled into the phone.  
  
There was a breif pause on the other end of the line. Hah... Pantyhose   
Tarou caught off guard. "...Nabiki...?"  
  
"Yeah, Nabiki... your WIFE, remember? She's standing right here next   
to me, squid. If she finds out you're kidnapping her little sister,   
she's gonna sue you for divorce so fast... and you're gonna wish you   
kept those pantyhose, Pantyhose, 'cause it'll be all you'd have to   
cover yourself with once she gets through with you."  
  
Another pause. Ranma was sure he had Tarou by the short hairs.  
  
"Nabiki's standing... next to you?"  
  
"Yup... and she's heard the whole thing." Ranma was sounding as smug   
as Tarou usually did.  
  
A third pause, and then, a low growl. "Put... the bitch... on. NOW!"  
  
So startled was Ranma that he promptly turned the phone over to Nabiki   
without a second thought.  
  
Nabiki blinked. And took the phone. "Tarou... what do you think you're   
*doing*?"  
  
She could hear the grin in her husband's voice. "Getting my own back.   
These two really made asses out of us last year, so I'm enjoying this."   
There was a feminine gasp, and; "There you go. Sorry about that, but   
we had to make it sound convincing."  
  
"Yeah, right..." Akane's voice.  
  
Nabiki's expression didn't change. "What are you going to do to her?"  
  
"Heh. You should ask what I'm going to do to *you* once this is over   
with..." And completely unconcerned with the fact that his sister-  
in-law was sitting only a few feet away, Tarou began to lauch into a   
litany of marital acts that were, shall we say, unique to the Tarous.  
  
You see, Pantsuit Tarou, unlike Ranma, had learned to embrace his curse   
rather than shun it. This applied to every aspect of his life, including   
romance - if you could call it that. And once she got over the initial   
shock, Nabiki learned to embrace it, too... quite literally. After all,   
here was a guy who was not only rich, but intelligent and arrogant as   
she was, and to top it all off, hung like a bull! She even discovered   
she enjoyed tentacles now and again.  
  
But Pantsuit was going a bit far with this list - and in front of her   
sister, no less! "Pantsuit, no... don't do this."   
  
Ranma watched as her sister-in-law turned crimson with rage and quavered   
in fear. Finally, he could take no more; he snatched the phone from   
Nabiki's hands and without even bothering to bring the receiver to his   
ear, screamed into the mouthpiece "I don't care where you are, panty-boy,   
I am gonna hunt you down to the ends of the earth, and I am gonna put   
you in a world of hurt!" SLAM. He charged out of the room, down the   
stairs, and out the gates, leaving Nabiki behind, still staring at the   
phone.  
  
At which point, she broke down laughing. Kami, but Ranma sounds so   
like a pro wrestler when he's like this. So cheesy. Maybe if he didn't   
write his own lines...  
  
And she headed for the Ono clinic to fetch her husband and sister.   
She'd need help decorating the dojo, even though she knew Ranma   
wouldn't return until *he* found them himself.  
  
It was a good thing they *were* at the clinic, too. Pantsuit had barely   
set the phone down before he got clocked by red-faced Akane. "And I   
used to think *Ranma* was a pervert."  
  
*****  
  
Many hands make light work, they say - although folks watching   
Tarou working in his cursed form might disagree (including him) -   
and with Kasumi in the kitchen and the others festooning the dojo   
with black crepe, preparations were made swiftly.  
  
And none too soon, as the hordes were about to storm the gates.  
  
"Hello there, Yuka, Takeshi..."  
  
"Hi there, Kasumi... place looks nice."  
  
"Why, thank you."  
  
"Oh hey, Tarou... Ranma was looking for you. He seemed pissed."  
  
"I know. We had to get him out of the dojo SOMEhow..."  
  
*****  
  
Knock-knock.  
  
"Nihao! Shampoo need hide for surprise Ranma?"  
  
"Yeah, but stay human for this one, okay?"  
  
"Of course. Bull-man know that Ranma look for...?"  
  
"Yes, yes..."  
  
*****  
  
"Ah... come on in, Hiroshi-kun."  
  
"Thanks, Kasumi. Oh, hey, Tarou, Ra-"  
  
"I *KNOW*!!"  
  
*****  
  
Finally, everyone was in the dojo and in their places. Everyone,   
that is, except the guest of honor.  
  
"Well, honey... guess it's time to bring him in." Splash.  
  
In his cursed form, all Tarou could do was let out a questioning "Mrr?"   
  
Nabiki smiled. "Oh, come on... you *know* he's expecting you to   
face him like this. Besides, you're easier to find this way, too."   
She put her finger to her lips as if trying to remember something.   
"Oh, and Akane..."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You'll need to be tied up." She gestured to several of the other   
guests to get some ropes from the supply cabinet, which several  
of the still-single guys were all too eager to do.  
  
"Tied up? Again? Are you out of your mind?" A bluish glow began   
to form around Akane.   
  
"You're supposed to have been kidnapped, Akane... come on,   
you know the drill." Nabiki's eyes glinted mischeivously as her   
sister's battle aura vanished. It was all part of the plan, after all,  
and Akane had agreed to it right from the start. "And admit it...   
you love it, Sis."  
  
"I am noff yoof, Nafiffi."  
  
"Nice gag, boys." It didn't take long, once Akane stopped struggling,  
and Nabiki began to understand just how satisfying this had been   
for her husband. She was already well on her way to getting even   
for last year's humiliation.  
  
Now, to get Ranma.  
  
"Time to take off, sweetie." Nabiki slapped her monstrous spouse   
on the flank, who lumbered over to Akane and slung her over his   
massive shoulder. "Try not to let him kick your butt *too* hard..."  
  
*****  
  
Pantsuit Tarou was doing a bovine impression of a growl as he left   
the dojo. How dare that woman suggest Ranma could kick his butt!  
  
But it was true. After all, while Tarou had made his fortune in the   
Nikkei, Ranma had continued to practice the Art. They were not   
evenly matched, and Tarou knew it. He would never admit it,   
even to himself, but he knew it. And he had no intention of   
letting his butt get kicked.  
  
All he had to do was to find fem-boy, and lead him on a merry   
chase back to the dojo.  
  
Assuming he could find him, that was.  
  
*****  
  
Nerima ward has been home to many a strange sight, many   
of which centered around Ranma Saotome. But these days,   
sometimes the strangest sight is Ranma himself. I'm sure most   
of you still picture him as that muscled teenage cartoon character,   
a martial-arts superhero, albeit with plenty of faults. But the thing   
is, cartoon characters and superheros never age. Oh, Ranma still   
has the muscles, and he still bounds ten metres in the air as he   
travels from rooftop to rooftop, but he's no teenager anymore.   
The rippling chest has been augmented by a pot belly - nothing  
like his father's, mind you, but you can't miss it - and what little   
hair he has is getting quite gray. He's very self-conscious about   
it, and it's why he keeps trying to act as much like he used to   
when he was still in his prime. He succeeds at this better than   
most, but there's something about that sight that even Nerima   
has trouble adjusting to from time to time.  
  
It was a sight Pantsuit Tarou wasn't prepared for, either. If Nerima   
finds a sight strange, how much more so an occasional visitor (of   
course, Pantsuit himself is one of those strange sights Nerima used   
to be familiar with). Old Man Karate, indeed. He laughed so hard   
that he was forced to land, lest he drop Akane.  
  
Which brings us to another thing about Nerima, and what people are   
used: things break around there rather easily. It didn't use to be   
because everything was cheaply made, either. Buildings and walls   
and everything else used to be as study here as anywhere else.   
But after twenty-plus years of dealing with martial artists that could   
wreck adamantine with a flick of the wrist, folks in Nerima started   
to give up. Why waste time and expense making something sturdy,  
when it'll soon get broken as surely as if it were made of balsa wood?   
Cheap and quick, that's the Nerima construction philosophy these   
days.  
  
The reason I'm explaining this is because this posed a problem for   
Pantsuit when he landed. You see, when he came down, he landed   
on a roof.   
  
Naturally, it gave way under his massive weight.  
  
Naturally, it was the roof over the local sentou.  
  
And naturally, he landed in hot water. In several senses of the term.   
Bad enough he was no longer in his cursed form. Bad enough Akane   
had landed on top of him, pinning him underwater, for the moment.   
Bad enough that Ranma had spotted him aloft and would be there   
any second to pound him into dust.  
  
But why in Kami's name did he have to land on the women's side?   
And what with the transformation, he was every bit as naked as   
they were.  
  
Oh, crap...  
  
*****  
  
Having seen Pantyhose drop into the sentou, and realizing from the   
screams exactly *which* side of the bathhouse he'd landed on, Ranma   
kept his distance. All he could do was to stand by the hole in the roof   
(looking away from it, of course) and holler, "Akane! Are you down   
there? Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine!" By this time, Akane had been carried to safety and   
untied by several of the bathers who weren't making beef hash out of   
Tarou. "I'll meet you outside, and we can head home, okay?"  
  
"Right! I'll be by the door!" Heroics were not called for under the   
circumstances, and at his age, Ranma had learned when to simply   
wait for Akane to bail herself out. He knew the trouble he could get   
into on the wrong side of a bathhouse; whatever he could mete out to   
Pantyhose, the girls would give to him and then some. Besides,   
Akane could take care of herself; she had made that abundantly   
clear over the years.  
  
*****  
  
"Oh, it was awful, Ranma! Having to be tied up like that... and   
Pantyhose was saying the most horrible things! Those things he   
was threatening to do..." Akane shuddered as she walking alongside   
Ranma back to the dojo. It wasn't simply part of the act, either -   
she had no taste for the exotic, um, amusements that her sister ran   
to. She knew that Tarou wouldn't have done anything to her, but the   
thought of him and Nabiki... well, it sent chills up and down her spine.  
  
Ranma put his arm around her shoulder. "Well, what matters is that   
you're safe. I figure those girls'll give him plenty of the punishment   
he deserves." He chuckled softly. "Of course, he may be into that   
sort of thing..."  
  
It didn't earn him a malleting, but Akane did give him a sharp shove   
in the ribs. "Don't make me *think* about stuff like that, Ranma!"  
  
"All right, already! Sheesh..."  
  
They were almost to the dojo when they saw him. Bruised and ragged,   
draped only in a towel, which he'd presumably stolen from the sentou.   
Heading for the dojo - and from all appearances, he'd get there ahead   
of them.  
  
"Pantyhose... what the hell's he doing, heading for *our* house?"   
Ranma broke into a run, and Tarou, with a glance over his shoulder,   
charged into the courtyard of the Tendo compound. "How dare you?   
Dammit, Pantyhose, when I get my hands on you..."  
  
"SURPRISE!!"  
  
Ranma's voice quickly dropped to a low murmur amid the cheering and   
the noisemakers, but otherwise, he didn't miss a beat. "...I am going   
to kill you."  
  
*****  
  
This really wasn't a party for the children, but Akane had decided   
against sending them off to Grandma Saotome's, or else her husband   
might suspect something. After all these years, now Akane's giving   
Ranma *more* credit than he deserved when it comes to being   
observant. So they were there, too. Akima had to be pulled away   
from the buffet table more than once, lest he leave the guests hungry.  
And as Ranma was unwrapping his gifts, well...  
  
"Daddy, they live on a farm... couldn't they have sent a *real* horse?"   
Noriko's one of those girls who asks for a pony with every birthday   
and Christmas, and she has the added insult of having a father who   
receives horse-motif gifts on a regular basis, thanks to his name.   
It's just another reminder of something she can't have.  
  
Akane did her best to placate her younger daughter. "Honey, you   
know that's because of Daddy's name. Besides, the Hibikis live on   
a pig farm... you wouldn't want them to send us a live pig, now,   
would you?"  
  
"Sure... I could wrestle it." Akima piped up. After meeting Yoiko,   
and hearing about how her parents met, he had gotten it into his   
head that that would be the way to win her affection. She certainly   
seemed like she wanted to spend time with him here in Tokyo,   
showing her around and what-have-you. It was the sort of thing   
that was beginning to sound quite pleasant, indeed.  
  
For the first time that evening, Ranma grinned at his boy's eagerness.   
"Well, I'd bet Pops would think that would be good training, but I don't   
think we could keep a pig here, son. Maybe we can visit the Unryuu   
farm sometime."  
  
"You mean it? Really?"  
  
"Sure, why not? It's something I never got a chance to do."  
  
Akane tapped her husband on the shoulder, "And a good thing for you,   
too... didn't you have enough girls chasing you without having Akari   
to deal with?" It was just about enough to cause Ranma to color a bit.  
  
Meanwhile, Noriko sensed that she was being ignored. "But Mommm...   
Daddy gets all this stupid horse stuff, and I'm always asking for one..."  
  
"(Yes, you are...) Noriko, honey... remember, Daddy's name means   
*wild* horse.' You wouldn't really want a wild horse, now, would you?"  
  
"I could tame it."  
  
Akane heaved a deep sigh. "That's what *I've* been trying to do for   
the past twenty years..."  
  
*****  
  
Everyone at the affair had already presented Ranma with something,   
be it something he might want or need, or the occasional gag gift (Hiroshi,   
for one, had brought a bottle of Viagra from the local pharmacy he ran,   
thus covering both gag and useful in one fell swoop), when Daisuke   
stepped outside for a little fresh air - even at this advanced age, guys   
still drink way too much sake, just to show that they still can - and   
nearly tripped over an box that had been left by the entrance.   
Forgetting his queasiness, he ran inside with it.   
  
"Oi, gang... found this outside. There's no card or anything. Anybody   
*not* give Ranma their present?"  
  
Stone silence, as everyone shook their heads. Then a rumble of   
footsteps, as everyone crowded around Daisuke to take a look at   
this mystery gift. All at once, Daisuke remembered he was in   
desperate need of air. As soon as the box was in someone else's   
hands, he dropped to his knees in an effort to crawl out from the   
crowd.  
  
He almost made it to the patio. Well, at least at that point, everyone   
was more than willing to give him as much space as he needed.  
  
*****  
  
Aside from Daisuke, who was lying on the edge of the patio like a   
seasick man in a hurricane, and Kasumi, who was busily cleaning up   
the effects of his, erm, seasickness, everyone was staring at the   
unidentified gift, and at Ranma as he picked it up and turned it   
around several times in his hands. Nobody could figure out who it   
had come from. Everybody that the Saotomes knew well was   
at the party except...  
  
"Hm... from the look of it, you'd think it might have come from one   
of the Kunous?"  
  
Which seemed a bit odd, as the Kunous never have any dealings   
with the Saotomes, and needless to say neither of them were at the   
party. Kodachi pretty much dropped her claim on Ranma-sama when   
Akane became pregnant with Nagisa; it was clear to even her at that   
point that Ranma-sama and Akane were... were... she couldn't even   
bear the thought of him having sex with someone other than herself,   
but the proof was incontrovertible. The only way Kodachi would ever   
be able to have Ranma-sama would be as a mistress, and to lower   
herself to such second-class status was the last thing she would   
consider doing. Which was fine, as she was the last person Ranma   
would ever consider for a mistress, assuming he ever would.  
  
Tatewaki, for his part, had also been avoiding the Saotomes for a   
number of years, even the pig-tailed girl. Especially the pig-tailed girl,   
in fact. As the years went by, even he could notice that his darling   
still appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and what   
with Kodachi's constant ravings about her being a witch, he was   
beginning to consider the unthinkable possibility that his sister might   
be right. He wasn't sure which part of the proposition was scarier,   
but he wasn't taking any chances.  
  
But while it didn't seem as though it could have been from either   
of them, it was clear that there was this one last present from...   
someone. "Might as well open it... it's too light to be a bomb,   
anyway..."   
  
Thus assured, everyone crowded around him to see what was   
in this mystery box. The Hawaiian-motif kerchief was untied to   
reveal a black lacquer box, inside of which was a coconut.  
  
An almond-white coconut.   
  
There wasn't a whisker of that brown hair on it. It was   
Kunou-kouchou's gift to Ranma, a little reminder that,   
after all these years, Ranma Saotome had finally gotten   
that buzz cut the principal tried and failed to give him.  
  
Spirit wards were immediately slapped onto the coconut's white   
skin, and Ranma hurled the thing into low earth orbit. But some   
of the partygoers could swear they heard the faint sound of the   
principal's booming laughter, even as they watched it disappear   
off into the horizon...  
  
  
And that's the News from Nerima...  
where all the women are strong (and how!)...  
all the men are... well, they aren't always men, actually...  
and all the craziness is above average.  
  
===============  
  
Ara...  
  
This story was taking shape so nicely, I thought I could have   
it out about a week after the pilot NHC episode was released.   
Needless to say, other stuff intervened. The story itself   
started to unfold quite a bit (which is a good thing when you're   
trying to ramble, but the writing takes longer), and then there   
was that weird Utena bit (you're right Zen... I reallly need to   
lay off the midnight okonomi-yaki).  
  
I'm concerned, too, that I'm starting to lose the folksy monologue  
style of Keillor's original work... anyone familiar with it and willing  
to check this against it?   
  
And there's so many more ideas, but never the time to commit   
them to paper (or disk, or, well... you know what I mean, sugar).   
Heh... sometimes I wish I could palm them off on someone else.  
  
Anyway, I'm hoping that shortly I'll be set up for IIRC as well as   
the MUCK... on the other hand, Kami only knows *when* I'll be   
able to go on. Could have a time for y'all once the school year   
starts for Dan-chan, but 'til then...  
  
Of course, any comments, criticism, flames, what-have-you   
can still be sent to me at:  
  
ukyoukwnji@aol.com  
  
Until next time, ja!  
  
Itsu mo,  
  
Ucchan ^_^ 


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